


The Artemis

by eggboyksoo



Category: NCT (Band), WayV (Band)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Royalty AU, inspired by take off, tension???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 15:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18813928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggboyksoo/pseuds/eggboyksoo
Summary: Ten is just a nobody. He just has a big interest in Northern politics and a big dislike for Qian Kun, the Prince Regent.





	The Artemis

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't intend for this to be the way this is. i certainly didn't think this was gonna be a multi-chaptered fic. but. here we are. this is my contribution to the kunten nation! i don't know where i'm going with this, except that i'm Going. 
> 
> inspired by [these](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/D6aTNW5XsAENjlB?format=jpg&name=medium) [looks](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/D6aTPiFX4AA80Ao?format=jpg&name=small) and [chenle looking like a prince of the universe](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/D5iLKNRWAAABPPg?format=jpg&name=medium). also ten spray painting himself in the take off mv. WHEW.

Ten already knows Hendery’s good at what he does—he isn’t one of the youngest Master Spies in their kingdom for nothing—but the way Ten manages to enter the Royal Garage without tripping an alarm only goes to show how good. Not only is he crazy enough to even attempt it, he’s smart enough to make it effortless. The air vent pops out of place with ease. Ten hooks a rope over the edge, for easy escape, and slips into the garage.

The garage is lined with dark SUVs with blacked out windows and heavy armour. A typical royal affair. There’s plenty of them, and they could work, but Ten hadn’t decided to travel into the heart of the capitol for something he could mark easily on the street. He moves through the rows of cars, searching—there’s a beautiful vintage peacock blue car, and a cherry red convertible—beautiful, tempting, but not the car that he’s come for. Not the one that he wants to modify.

And then he sees it.

The Prince Regent’s silver Moonbeam, exclusively made for him. The press reports that the Prince Regent calls it Artemis. It sits in prime position in the garage; the black Lightning that he knows Chenle calls Lele Jr, is nowhere to be seen.

Ten knows there’s no other place for the royal vehicles to be kept. Seeing the luminescent car sitting in the place where the King’s car should’ve been… well, it made Ten want to send a message.

He reaches for the can of red spray paint holstered to his belt and walks over to the Artemis. It’s shined to perfection, the exclusive pearlescent paint and modifications screaming luxury and royalty. All things Ten understands and respects, but _hates_ when he sees it all come together in this specific car. The pearlescent white paint job doesn’t help to disguise the fact what had to happen for the Regent to get the car, to be able to do his job—Ten can’t forget sitting with his parents, receiving the news… greeting the thirteen-year-old child King, trying desperately to hold his tears back.

Everything the Prince Regent has was gained by the destruction of Chenle’s childhood. And now, here, on the cusp of adulthood and taking his throne back from the Council and his Regent, Chenle is nowhere to be found.

Ten lets the rage fester as he stands in front of the Artemis, thinks about the man who speaks on behalf of the Child King, who  he was no more than a child himself when he was appointed. The way his face is all over the press, over all the reports that come into Ten’s own kingdom.

The Usurper.

With a resolute nod, he shakes the spray can in his hand, directing all his rage in mixing the paint, unsure of what message he wants to send, but knowing he wants to make the Artemis _ugly_ , wants to destroy it, wants everyone to see the Prince Regent for what he is.

He aims the can for the hood of the car. Takes a deep breath, trying to centre himself, to push back some of the rage.

“You would step away from that vehicle and lower your arm, if you knew what was good for you.”

The voice is recognisable, even if Ten’s never heard fury simmering behind each clipped word. He waits a few seconds, not wanting to show fear, before looking over his right shoulder.

Qian Kun, The Prince Regent, stands behind him, dressed both elaborately and casually in an expensive suit. His face looks deceptively neutral—but Ten’s people training makes it easy to read the slight pursing of his lips and the way his eyebrow twitches as he holds back the might of his fury. Ten, off-handedly, tries not to notice how media conferences do his face no justice.

“I don’t have much patience for tyrants,” Ten drawls, shaking his spray can with more force. This time, he manages to push down on the nozzle—small specks of red staining the white paint—before Kun moves.

The Prince Regent is fast and strong, despite his slight frame. He pushes Ten roughly against the door of the car, one hand on the small of his back, the other holding his wrists and locking them into place. Kun breathes harshly,  fanning over Ten’s cheek, his neck. “What are you doing here?” He growls directly into Ten’s ear. If he was a weaker person, Ten might’ve shivered. “How did you get in here?”

“You have a compromised security system,  _Your Highness_ ,” Ten spits, “And I have fantastic staff.”

“Compromised?” Kun’s hands grip his wrists tighter. They’re probably gonna bruise. “I—How do I know you’re not a liar?”

“I don’t care what you think of me,” Ten says, and it’s the truth. “I just want you to know that you’re not doing a very good job of protecting your King if your security systems are this easy to crack.” Ten snorts. “Although, that could be the plan, isn’t it? Have someone take out the King so you can inherit it all?”

Ten feels Kun’s anger before he hears it—Kun presses harder, pushes him further against the door until his face is pressed up against it. His temple aches from the pressure.

“ _How dare you_ ,” Kun spits. “How fucking  _dare_ you. How dare you insinuate that I would commit treason? I’ve given up my _life_ to project the King. I would _die_ for him.”

It’s difficult to speak, with him being unable to move his face, but Ten’s notorious for speaking out of turn or when it’s unwanted. He manages to say, “You’ve gained plenty, too.”

Kun doesn’t ease up, but he stays silent. Ten continues, because there’s really nothing for him to lose, and he loves dramatics. “A maternal cousin of the King, the son of a noble… you were a Lord. And when the old King and Queen died, you were the closest relative to take on the position of Regent. And they made you a prince.”

Ten hears Kun take a shuddering breath. Then: “You aren’t here for Chenle,” he says. “You’re here for me.”

Ten snorts. “You really _do_ think too highly of yourself, my lord,” he says, mockingly. “I’m here for your car.”

“What good is the Artemis to you?”

“The Artemis is famous now, didn’t you know? _Everyone_ knows the Artemis, and the Prince who drives it.” Ten risks a look. Kun is so, so close. His expression is still neutral, unfailingly polite, but he sees the confusion, the anger, the _fear_. “It’s like everyone has forgotten about the Child King, and how his parents were assassinated. And how he comes of age this winter, and you’ve kept him in the palace like he’s still thirteen and grief-stricken.”

“You want to send a message,” Kun says, slowly.

“Long live the King,” Ten says. “The Zhong King.”

Kun scoffs. “You don’t think that’s what I’m trying to do?” He says. “You _prance_ in here, and think some spray paint is going to change anything?”

It’s Ten’s turn to fall silent. He had greater plans, but there was only so much his parents would approve of before it resulted in full blown war.

“And what do you know?” Kun says. “What do you know about how I’ve tried to protect my cousin? For a moment, you had me fooled. It’s clearly _your staff_ that has the intelligence—you’re rash and dangerous. You could’ve had my cousin killed.”

“Then tell me, my lord prince,” Ten says, irritation seeping into his words, “Why my plan would’ve been such a bad idea? Because you’re afraid of your cousin being loved by the public and removing you from power?”

“Because,” Kun says, and the Regent seems more tense than Ten could have ever imagined. He waits, as Kun debates with himself, unsure of whether or not he can trust the stranger, but he says, “Because my cousin is a walking target. The people who killed my aunt and uncle won’t rest until he’s dead also.”

“And what makes you so different? Why have you not been targeted?”

Kun laughs, bitter. “You said it yourself. I’m just a lord.”

Ten allows this to sink in, trying to ignore the pain at his brow bone, studs pressing in uncomfortably into flesh. He’s had his own squabbles with councils and advisors. He’s learnt to navigate being unapologetically himself and somehow make everyone believe he’s agreeing with them. It’s a tactic royalty, especially those born to rule, learn quickly. For a Lord who would’ve never dreamed of being anything close to a King, Kun has learnt fast.

“I hate being wrong, but I’m beginning to think I might have been.”

“Finally,” Kun says. “The criminal speaks sense.”

“If you’re lying to me,” Ten continues, “I’ll make sure you suffer.”

“I believe you are in no position to make threats.” Kun presses his weight against Ten, for good measure.

It hurts, and if Kun pushes him any further, he’s scared there might be bleeding. Regardless, Ten looks at Kun through the corner of his eye and grins.

”What on earth,” Kun says. Ten says nothing, pushing back against Kun. The Prince Regent fights him at first, but Ten fights harder; as soon as Kun steps back, Ten moves his head, showing off the left side of his face to Kun.

He knows that his face is going to be red; there might be blood too. But he watches Kun as his gaze travels to the seven small diamonds that have been permanently added to the skin under his brow bone. He watches as Kun’s face pales, jaw dropping. Kun’s hands leave his back and his wrists, and everything aches.

There will be eight studs when he’s king.

“You,” Kun says, eyes still not leaving the diamonds. They’re the only thing that he couldn’t leave behind with Hendery when he went on this mission—the only thing that exposes him for who he really is. “You’re—You’re Crown Prince Chittaphon. From the Southern Kingdom.”

“Chenle was the best thing about this stupid kingdom,” Ten says. “Whenever I visited with my parents. He was adorable, and I liked to give him gifts and watch him play. He made me wish I had a younger brother.”

Kun bows. A part of Ten feels vindicated, making the False King bow, but there’s something inside him that suddenly feels itchy. It’s fun to break men, but the Prince Regent had seemed unflappable.

“I remember your visits, Your Highness,” Kun says. “I never got to meet you, but—I was often in the castle for the feasts, and such. Chenle always spoke about you fondly.”

“I know he’s going to be a great king,” Ten says. “A _real_ king.”

When Kun lifts his head, his eyes are easy to read. _Fear_. “They’ll kill him.”

“Not if we kill them first.”

Kun shakes his head. “Forgive me, I don’t know much about how things are conducted in the South, but something like this could be grounds for war.”

“Crown Prince Chittaphon is sick. Haven’t you heard? He’s locked up in his palace. He won’t be allowed out for months.”

“You—”

“My name is Ten. I’m a nobody—just someone who’s really interested in Northern politics.”

“If you want people to buy that, you’ll have to find a way to hide those studs,” Kun says. “You’re _insane_.”

Ten shrugs. “I’m offering the help and the intel that you need to set everything to rights. I wouldn’t be complaining too much if I were you.”

“I don’t even know if I can trust you.” Even as he says it, Kun steps away from Ten. It’s weird, because Ten’s finally used to having the Prince pressed up against him, and that he’s possibly striking up an alliance with the man Ten had loathed only an hour before, but Ten’s always been known for thinking on his feet and being pretty merciful.

“I’ll do this on my own if I have to,” Ten says with a little shrug. “It’s your choice, my lord prince.”

Kun stares at him. _Really_ stares at him, eyes slowly making their way from the studs—always the studs—all the way down. Then his gaze makes their way back up to Ten’s eyes. “I have this strong feeling that I’m going to regret this.”

Ten tilts his head and stares back, unbothered. The cameras really don’t do the Prince Regent justice, and Ten hates that he’s aware of it now. “It’s probably your subconscious reminding you that if you fuck me over, I’ll have your head.”

“How diplomatic.”

“Like I said, I don’t have much patience for tyrants. Now, take me to Chenle.”

Kun stares at him, and Ten’s stomach clenches as Kun nods, in deference. “Of course. Your Highness.”

**Author's Note:**

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